


Stucky Tumblr Drabbles

by cleo4u2



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, Random - Freeform, Read at Your Own Risk, Shit i put on tumblr, Though i doubt therew anything terrible, Who knows whats in here, but you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 13,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2
Summary: Drabbles done on Tumblr for Stucky and saved here. Will be a never ending fic as I will add chapters every time I drabble on Tumblr.Unbeta'd. All errors are my own.





	1. Chapter 1

Prompt: “You’re from another country and are very confused by the overwhelming and sudden patriotism AU”  


* * *

“Stop staring at her.”  


“Stop staring? She’s wearing American Flag sweats. In public.”  


“So?”  


“So? That’s a national travesty.”  


“It’s the fourth; it’s not the weirdest I’ve seen.”  


“The fourth?”  


“Independence Day? It’s not really unusual.”  


“It’s not unusual for people to put American Flags on their ass to celebrate your independence?”  


“Pretty much.”  


“…this explains so much about you.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @cobaltmoony "I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

“Bucky,” Steve says tiredly, “the cat doesn’t speak English.”

Bucky ignores Steve and scratches the stray cat he found on 59th behind the ears. It purrs like a motorcycle despite missing one eye. Because he knows he’s being ignored, Steve sighs again from his spot on the couch and rubs at his face. Steve doesn’t seem to like Bucky’s new friend.

“Ignore Steven,” Bucky tells the cat, “he always has to be right and he’s apparently decided he doesn’t like cats, even though he just used to have an allergy.”  


The cat keeps on purring, so Bucky keeps on scratching.

“Bucky,” Steve protests.  


“I’ve always wanted a cat. We’re gonna be best friends, especially since Steve likes to make loads of friends without me.”  


“Bucky,” Steve groans louder.  


“I’ll get you everything you need to be happy here with us, and in return I only ask that you wind yourself between Tony’s feet when he’s walking so he falls on his face.”  


Steve snorts.

“Okay, you can keep the cat.”  


“See?” Bucky tells the cat. He’s going to name him Mittens because he can. “Steve’s not so bad.”  


* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @xxluluelix "What the hell were you thinking?"

“Specifically?” Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Fuck that guy, and his face.”  


Bucky can’t help himself, he laughs. It’s not conducive to scolding Steve, but the answer is priceless. 

“He did have a shitty face,” Bucky concedes as he finishes the tying the bandages on Steve’s knuckles. “I much prefer yours.”  


Steve tilts his head to the side. His eye is already swelling, but Bucky doesn’t think it’ll be that bad. Part of him wishes they were still in the alley so he could beat the guy who hit Steve some more.

“That mean I get a kiss instead of a lecture?”  


Snorting, knowing Steve’s got his number, Bucky leans forward and plants a quick kiss on Steve’s lips.

“This time, mister.”  


Steve grins.

“Love you, too, Buck.”  


* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @plus-quun-coulicer and @remedy7411 "Did you really just insult Captain America in front of me?"

“Who the fuck are you?” random asshole #1 says, glaring at Bucky as well as one can when they’re shitfaced.  


“Who am I?” Bucky scoffs. “I’m his boyfriend!”  


“That’s the fuckin’ problem,” says equally shitfaced asshole #2, “Captain _America_  has a boyfriend! A boyfriend! What’s the world comin’ to when the face of America, of ‘er army, is a poof?”

Something comes loose in Bucky’s chest and he knows, distantly, he shouldn’t be getting this mad. His therapist is very clear about how being this mad is bad for his recovery. Yet there’s no part of him that wants to walk away. When he’s in asshole #2′s face, he growls, “Wanna say that again?”

The guy is either really drunk, really stupid, or a combination of the two as he looks at his friend, then at Bucky, and laughs.

“Get a load of this queer. Think he’s gonna hit me.”  


“Give ya a little girly slap?” asshole #1 asks, also laughing.   


Bucky’s rearing back, metal arm whirling, when he stops himself. 

“You know what,” he growls, voice low and asshole #2 is no longer looking so confident, “you’re not worth it. It wouldn’t take any effort to break your stupid face.” 

Bucky spits at the bigot’s feet and turns away, only to spin back around when asshole #1 says, “Yeah, you walk away!” He lunges in their direction and they trip over each other darting away, falling into the street. It’s a funny enough sight that Bucky laughs and keeps laughing as he walks away. His therapist will be proud.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @cobaltmoony "Say it! Say it like you mean it!"

“I LIKE PINEAPPLE ON MY PIZZA!”

Tony opens his mouth and then shuts it, staring at a chest heaving Steve Rogers, on his feet, red in the face from his exclamation. Or maybe he’s blushing because Thor and Clint are laughing at him.

“What did I just wall in on?” he asks no one in particular.

“A travesty of pizza,” Clint giggles.

“Steve getting trolled,” Natasha deadpans.“

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” Steve shouts.

Without another word, Tony turns and walks out of the common room. As much as he likes having the other Avengers around, living in his tower, they are very strange people. Even for him, sometimes it’s just best to walk away.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by @tigerlilliesandcherryblossoms "'I dare you or 'Make me' for the ask meme :)"

“I dare you.”  


“Okay, I will.”  


Three word. Or six, if you count those uttered by Natasha which inspired Steve’s own. That’s all it takes, three words, and Steve’s somehow got his own float in New York’s pride parade. Thankfully, it’s nearly eighty degrees out, or Steve is pretty sure he’d be freezing his ass off. His ass isn’t hanging out, but there’s more of him on display than he’s entirely comfortable with. Yet, he said he would and, well, now it’s a point of pride, no pun intended.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Natasha says. It’s the fourth time she’s said it since Steve agreed.  


“You’re the one that dared me to accept,” Steve says for the fourth time as well.  


This time Natasha’s silent before she confesses, “I really didn’t think the letter was real.”

Steve blinks, turning to her. The cape of feathers strapped to his shoulders, dyed in a glorious rainbow, swishes about him. It took some time to learn how to walk in the thing, but Steve had a lot of fun practicing. He has to admit, it looks great with his thigh high white boots and bedazzled white short-shorts Bucky insisted he wear.

“Why would you think anyone would send me a fake request to join the Pride Parade? We all came out when the Cheeto took office; Sam and I are bi, Bucky’s gay, you’re asexual, Clint is transexual, Pepper’s aromantic, Bruce is demi, and Tony is… Well… Tony.”  


“I’m putting that on a t-shirt,” Tony says from where he’s working on the mechanics of the float. At least, Steve’s pretty sure that’s what he says. He’s got a screwdriver in his mouth.  


“I am well aware of what we all are,” Natasha says loftily, “but you’ve been a symbol of oppression so long…”  


“No real American would be queer,” Steve sighs.   


“Yes, but that’s not even what I was talking about,” Natasha says quickly, obviously trying to steer Steve away from his usual depression over being used to oppress people. “You were offered the float, Steve. We all came out, but they offered it to you, and you made this.”  


As she says ‘this’, she gestures up and around him. The Avengers Pride float is kind of, well, ginormous. Everyone was way too into the idea and provided a little piece to the monstrosity.  It has two tiers - Steve is convinced Sam, Bucky and Clint have an obsession with being up high - is more crape-paper rainbows than a trailer, thanks to Natasha; a giant, glittery A, curtosy of Pepper; and, whenever Tony finishes, an automated air system to shoot t-shirts into the crowd. Steve’s seen the shirts. He has to admit, they’re pretty awesome.

“It’s not supposed to be about me,” Steve huffs, putting his hands on his hips. “It’s supposed to be about all of us, coming together, as a community, because we’re stronger _together_.”  


“I _know_ ,” Natasha snaps, “I just… I’m trying to say you did good, Steve!”  


Steve snorts, pulling Natasha into a hug. 

“You’re terrible at that,” he says as he let’s her go.  


“Yeah, shut up,” she mutters, “You can’t back down from a dare.”  


* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @lovesfic "Ooh, ficlet please for "I did not mean for stripping to come out of this." Thanks =D"

“I did not mean for stripping to come out of this,” Natasha says slowly.  


She’s staring at Steve as he crosses his arms and pulls his shirt over his head, then drops his sweats. Every well defined, super serum enhanced muscle is on display. Every. Single. One. Yeah, that one. 

Reaching across Sam, Clint shoves his hand into the bag of popcorn and then stuffs the handful into his mouth. Natasha is certain he doesn’t blink. She’s also certain Sam, Bucky, and Tony are also not blinking. 

Natasha stops blinking too when Steve drops his tight, white undershorts and dives into the pool.

“God, bless you,” Tony says, clapping Natasha on the shoulder.  


“If Steve doesn’t know about skinny-dipping,” Clint says, “think he knows about streaking?”  


“Let’s find out,” Sam and Bucky say together before glaring at each other.  


Natasha thinks about protesting, but instead says, “JARVIS? Shut down all surveillance cameras in the tower.”

He still hasn’t blinked, but Clint lifts his butter stained hand and she snorts, but slaps it. It’s going to be a good night.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @Remedy7411 "I just did some calculations, and I've been able to determine you're full of shit."

Steve shrugs.

“Come on, Buck, it’ll be fun.”  


“Like that train in the Alps fun?” Bucky digs and then immediately regrets it when Steve not only stops smiling, he turns pale and then looks away.  


“Nevermind,” Steve is saying when Bucky grabs his hand.  


“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly, “it’ll be fun.”  


Steve looks down at their hands, still too pale, and swallows. Yet he looks up at Bucky, searchingly, and asks, “You sure?”

“You might be full of shit,” Bucky says, voice rougher than he’d like, “but my hair’s brown so that’s gotta mean something.”  


Slowly grinning, Steve says, “That doesn’t even make sense, Bucky,” but Bucky doesn’t care because all he ever wants is to see that smile directed his way.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @remedy7411 "Its a real shame nobody asked for your opinion."

“Steve!” Bucky snaps, half appalled he’s about to break some asshole human’s face and half giddy because he hasn’t heard Steve get righteous since the 1930s.  


“No, Buck,” Steve says, just as loud, just as angry and the mouthy fucker who was laughing at Bucky’s pride shirt shrinks into his booth like he hopes it’ll swallow him whole, “he’s gotta problem with you, he’s got a problem with me.” Turning back to the frat boy, Steve growls, “You owe my friend an apology.”  


“S-sorry,” frat boy stutters. “Yay, uh, gay people?”  


Bucky sees Steve’s lips twitch and knows he’s about to lose it. Frankly, Bucky is about to lose it and he hauls Steve out of the bar.

On the street, they both start laughing, leaning on each other, because, “Yay gay people?” Bucky wipes tears from his eyes. “Oh my god, Stevie, he was about to piss himself.”  


“Shouldn’t a said that about you,” Steve says, but he’s laughing just as hard. “Jesus, did you see his face?”  


Bucky declares, “We gotta come celebrate Pride every year if you’re gonna get so wound out.”

That gets Steve to pause and he looks at Bucky speculatively. 

“Yeah? Not mad?”  


“Mad?” Bucky shakes his head and presses a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “I love seein’ that little punk I feel in love with come out to play.”  


* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @d3voted2neuros1s "Sorry! I didn't mean to touch your butt!" because like he'll Steve didn't mean to."

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to touch your butt!”   


Bucky looks down at the hand Steve has pulled away so fast one would think his ass is on fire. His ass is hot, but it’s not _that_  hot, and, frankly, he’s pretty sure Steve did mean to touch his ass.

Grabbing Steve’s hand by the wrist, he plants it back on his leather-clad posterior and growls, “And I didn’t mean for you to stop.”

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @rawremodino "Text: who says no to sex and donuts"

Steve rolls his eyes. He loves his best friend, he really does, but Bucky hasn’t a romantic bone in his body. It makes him cringe just thinking of the lucky lady or guy who had Bucky stumble up to their door with a box of Krispy Kremes and come hither eyebrows. And no, Steve tells his inner Sam voice, it’s not because he’s in love with Bucky. That’s besides the point.

Text: Next time try flowers

Text: challenge accepted

Text: That wasn’t a challenge!

When Steve doesn’t get an answer, he’s only a little worried. Only a little. He’s just not sure how Bucky could have taken his text as a challenge. It rarely ends well when Steve doesn’t know what Bucky’s up to.

A half hour later, Steve answers a knock on his door to find… Well, someone is standing there with enough roses to block them from sight.

“Uh,” Steve says and Bucky pokes his head around the massive bouquet and wriggles his eyebrows.  


“Hey, baby,” Bucky purrs.  


“Uh,” is really all Steve can say. How can he be expected to say anything? Those are Bucky’s fuck me eyebrows. Steve knows, he’s seen them work on dozens of people in as many clubs and bars around the city. Now they’re being turned his way and, well, “Um.”  


Bucky frowns.

“I brought the doughnuts too, if this isn’t doing it for you.”  


“What?”  


Steve thinks he deserves a pat on the back for managing an entire word.

“Did I… get my signals wrong?” Bucky asks, no longer giving Steve sex eyebrows and instead just frowning. “Because… because I thought… and if you’re not interested…”  


“Interested?” Steve repeats, patting himself on the back again because this time it’s an actual question.  


“In me,” Bucky confirms. “Did I… Jesus, okay, forget this happened.” Bucky starts to turn around and Steve’s hand moves of it’s own accord. Now it’s Bucky’s turn to say, “Uh,” because Steve is holding him by the back of the collar. He gets the picture, though, and thankfully Steve isn’t required to speak until they’re in bed, the doughnuts eaten, and their clothes scattered across Steve’s apartment. Not required, but he still doesn’t, because Bucky’s his best friend and that’s the perks of knowing your lover that well, they know you well enough you don’t have to speak for them to understand you’d never say no to doughnuts and sex.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @kajmere "You're jealous, aren't you?"

“No, Steve,” Bucky says, too loud, too passionate, staccato and not trying to hide the truth, “why ever would you say that.”  


“Because you’re trying to burn lasers through Sam’s skull with your eyeballs,” Steve says.  


For once, Bucky doesn’t play it off, or pretend that him and Sam get along super well. Maybe it’s the therapy, or the distance between them and Siberia, or maybe Bucky’s finally starting to relax around Steve, but he doesn’t pretend. He’s practically pouting when he looks at Steve and blurts, “I was your best friend.”

A million words jump into Steve’s mind. A thousand ways to tell Bucky he can care about more than one person, that he still loves Bucky, that there doesn’t have to be a first, or there’s no competition, or that he can have more than one friend, and he wants Sam and Bucky to get along, too. A thousand ways, a thousand words, but instead he leans forward and kisses Bucky. Steve is pretty sure it takes them both by surprise, but once his lips are on Bucky’s - chapped and thing and rough with stubble - Steve doesn’t pull away, not when he feels Bucky kiss him back.

They don’t say anything when the kiss ends. Bucky is smiling, crooked and bright, and so is Steve. Sometimes, words aren’t enough.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @anonmadsci "Are you wearing my shirt?"

Bucky froze, knife in one hand, whetstone in the other. There was no need to panic, it was Steve’s voice. It was just… Steve wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He’d gone on a mission to someplace Bucky wasn’t yet cleared to know and wasn’t due to be back for another week.

“Yes,” Bucky admitted, but only because there wasn’t really another option. It wasn’t as if Bucky owned any SHIELD shirts of his own.  


Still dressed in his star-spangled uniform, Steve moved from Bucky’s bedroom doorway into his room. When Bucky chanced flicking his gaze Steve’s way, he could see he was dirty and grease stained so the mission hadn’t been canceled.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?”  


For a long moment, Bucky debates if he should answer, or even if he should lie. It’s a silly thing to even contemplate, really. This is Steve. He’s made a point of not lying to him since Steve ripped a helicopter out of the air for him.

“You weren’t here.”  


Bucky wishes his voice weren’t so defensive, but instead of being angry, everything about Steve goes soft. He finishes closing the distance between them, pushes his hand through Bucky’s hair with enough force his head is tipped back. Then Steve’s lips are on his forehead, his nose, trailing across his cheek, and the knife in his hand shakes as his hand trembles.

“You can wear my shirts when I’m here, too,” Steve whispers into his ear.   


Dropping the knife, Bucky holds onto Steve’s tiny waist and turns his face into his broad shoulder. The urge to cry is nearly overwhelming. Yet, he doesn’t have to explain, or justify himself, or apologize. Steve is just accepting his need to feel closer to the only man who remembers who he was.

“Missed you,” Bucky mumbles.

“Missed you, too, Buck,” Steve hums. “Missed you, too.”  


* * *


	14. As Birthday Presents Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [@micromarvel](https://tmblr.co/mYroLLJpWYK5wm3IsqMzoIg) Bucky b-day challenge in which I gave up on only 100 words:

“What is it?” Bucky asked, holding the thick, heavy goggles in his hands distrustfully. They had been handed to him by Steve, but he couldn’t stop his mistrust of something so high tech and utterly unknown.

“It’s your birthday present,” Steve answered.

Bucky’s head snapped up, meeting Steve’s nervous gaze. It was his birthday? There didn’t seem any reason for Steve to lie to him, but surely it wasn’t March 10th already. Surely he would have noticed if it was.

The sweet uncertainty in Steve’s eyes said it was true.

“Okay,” Bucky licked his lips, “but what is it?”

“It’s a VR headset,” Steve said, excited now as he surged forward and took it from Bucky’s hand. Carefully he lowered it over Bucky’s eyes, the goggle strap holding it in place. It took his sight of the room, leaving only the screen on the far side of the device and he tensed. “It’s okay,” Steve said quickly, “I’m here. I’ll watch your six. I just… Do you remember? You always used to say, after it was all over, we’d save up a little money and we’d go to the Grand Canyon?”

Hesitantly, Bucky nodded.

“Well, we can’t do that, not yet, so… so I found a way to bring it to you.”

Slowly the screen came to life, color flooding the tiny pixels until it was all Bucky could see. Then he yelped. Beneath his feet appeared the Grand Canyon itself. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked, looking down and around. All he could see was a deep gorge with water trailing through what looked to be miles and miles away.

“Sh, I’m here,” Steve said, right at his ear. A hand pressed to the base of Bucky’s spine and he relaxed a fraction. “You’re fine. We’re still in Wakanda and you need to stay sitting, but you can look around as much as you like. They’re calling it Virtual Reality, so you can be there without being there. Scott was blathering about cameras and stuff I’m sure you’d care about about, but I didn’t understand half of it.”

“Liar,” Bucky muttered, twisting his head about this way and that. Everywhere he looked, the majesty of the grand canyon, all it’s colors and hues, displayed about it. It took him only a moment to realize it was a static picture, not a video, but he wasn’t sure he cared. They were safe and yet Bucky was at the Grand Canyon.

“Okay, fair,” Steve admitted. “I got bored and stopped listening.”

Grinning, Bucky lifted the headset off his eyes and looked up at Steve.

“Thanks, punk.”

Flushing to the tips of his ears, Steve bent down, then brushed their lips together. It was a brief thing, but sweet and, more importantly, the first time they’d kissed in over seventy years. No more tip toeing around each other, no more time spent wondering if Steve still wanted him this way, no more longing. Bucky kissed Steve back, whining softly when he pulled away.

“Happy Birthday, Buck,” Steve murmured against his lips and Bucky thought, as presents go, it was the best he’d ever gotten.


	15. Dream Sharing

Bucky saw Steve again in a dream, in a field of purple flowers.

Before D.C., after the fall, after the surgery, they told Bucky Steve died. They did it to break him, but it only made him fight them harder because he wanted what he’d always wanted most: to make Steve proud of him.

“Why are you here?” Bucky had asked.

Steve had turned around at that. He was wearing that damned suit; stars and stripes and ridiculousness. No cowl, though, face uncovered as he stared upward as if he could see through the fog that lay on the glade.

“It’s warmer here, than where I am,” Steve had said. “We always said we’d come. I figured... Now would be nice.”

“Where are we?” Bucky had asked, though it wasn’t what he wanted to know. He wanted to know how a dead man could be cold.

“My mom told us about it,” Steve had murmured. “Remember? From when she was little in Ireland.”

“I remember,” Bucky had said, stepping closer as Steve turned around. His clothes changed, to slacks and a white shirt, suspenders hanging down about his thighs. He held out his arms and Bucky stepped into them, warmer and stronger than he remembered. 

“I’m scared,” Bucky had whispered against Steve’s throat.

Shaking his head, Steve had pulled him in tighter. 

“Nothin’ to be scared of. We’re together to the end of the line. Remember? You taught me that. What’s it mean? A line...”

“Never ends,” Bucky had whispered. 

“Never ends,” Steve had agreed, sliding his hand through Bucky’s hair. “We’ll always find each other again, always be together. Not even death can stop that. See?” Steve had stepped back, spreading his arms. “We swore we’d go. After the war, after it all... Never did manage that, did we? No, we went and died...”

“I’m not dead,” Bucky had tried to say, but his voice cut off, throat tightening as the fog started to grow thick, hiding Steve and all color in cool grey. When he opened them again, he was alone in his grey cell. He never told anyone, and eventually the Chair took it from him, but dreaming of Steve, talking to him, being with him... it was the reason they had to make the Chair, the code words. It was the reason it took them over a decade to break him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @bucky-trash: "if you're still doing the ask thing.... "When we're you going to tell me you're pregnant?" (For some reason, I'm imagining Bucky not telling amnesiac Steve in Heat Forged... but you can go in a totally different direction)

“When were you going to tell me you’re pregnant?!”

Steve holds the phone away from his ear after the third word, but it doesn’t save his poor ear drums any. His boyfriend is shouting and Steve’s pretty sure everyone within earshot heard the question.

“Bucky, honey,” Steve tries slowly, concern filling his chest, “I’m a guy.”

“Obviously, Steve,” Bucky growls. “Being gay, I wouldn’t be very attracted to lady bits.”

“It’s called a vagina.”

“Stop stalling and answer me!”

The sentence provably would have made Steve angry, considering Bucky’s tone, but he’s much more concerned with why the hell Bucky thinks it possible Steve can get pregnant at all. Laying a twenty on the counter, he nods to Sam and heads for the door.

“Bucky, I’m not pregnant.”

“Of course you are. I have the … the thing. Here.”

Uh oh, is all Steve can think.

“Buck, how much have you had to drink?”

“Enough,” Bucky huffs in irritation, “doesn’t mean I can’t tell a plus sign from a minus sign.”

Steve drops his face onto his palm.

“Oh my god, Bucky, men can’t give birth.”

“Oh…” Bucky’s voice trails off and he almost sounds sad when he adds, “I knew that.”

Uh oh, Steve’s brain supplies louder.

“So, who’s stick is…?” Steve winces as Bucky’s drunk brain puts two and two together and he shouts, “BECCA, OH MY GOD!”

“You weren’t supposed to find out yet,” Steve confesses ruefully as he flags down a cab. He pulls his phone away long enough to give the driver Bucky and Becca’s address. “She wanted to surprise everyone at Thanksgiving.”

“Oh my god.”

“Bucky…”

“Oh my god!”

Steve holds back a laugh.

“Yeah, Buck.”

“I’m gonna be an Uncle!”

Settling into the squeaky seat, Steve says tentatively, “Sounds like you’re not that upset you won’t be a dad any more.”

The silence on the end of the line has Steve holding his breath through two stop lights.

“I mean, you’d have to marry me first, Rogers.”

“You didn’t mind me having baby your baby out of wedlock,” Steve teases as relief let's him breathe again.

“Well, that was BEFORE. Now I have to set a good example for my niece or nephew.”

Laughing, Steve leans his head back and shoves his hand into his pocket. He closes his fingers around the small box he’s been carrying around for a week and closes his eyes.

“I’m coming over.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve smiles.

“Yeah.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @xxluluelix: "Time to ruin everything" for the ask thing

“Time to ruin everything,” Bucky grumbled.

“You don’t ruin everything,” Steve argued.

“I’m going to ruin this dinner,” Bucky shot back, shoving his hands as far into his jacket pockets as he could. He hated this and just wanted to escape back to Steve’s room, where he’d been staying since defrosting.

“Are you going to try to ruin it?”

“No,” Bucky grumbled, irritated because he could see where Steve was going with this and he didn’t want to hear it.

“Then it’s going to be fine, Buck.” Bucky didn’t believe it. “And if it gets to be too much, just tap the table three times and we’ll come home.”

Bucky paused and glanced at Steve from the corner of his eye. That wasn’t a suggestion he had expected from Steve, who had been looking forward to the dinner all week.

“Really?”

With a smile, Steve pushed his hand into Bucky’s pocket and wrapped his fingers about Bucky’s fist.

“Yeah, Buck. I’m just asking you to try. I’m not gonna be upset if it’s too much too soon, okay?”

Hesitantly, Bucky smiled.

“Okay.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @cobaltmoony: "That sigh was a lot louder than I intended it to be." for prompt! <3

Bucky hid a smile behind his cup as the guy he had been crushing on all week walked into the coffee shop. Some time every day, cutie with the paint-stained fingers came in, smiled at Sam, and ordered a large coffee before taking a seat by the window to drink and draw. It was lust at first sight with that little waist, messy blonde mop, and brilliant blue eyes.

Bucky had yet to get the courage to ask him out, but one day he would. He would be witty and smart, sweep the cute artist off his little feet. They’d start slow, getting to know each other, and Bucky would be suave and cool, and his crush would be sweet and firey. They’d make love for the first time in the guys studio, end up covered in paint, but neither would mind. It would be perfect and wonderful and nothing at all like reality.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky started and realized with horror he was staring right into his crushes eyes which were even more blue up close.

“Um, I,” Bucky blushed and felt his stomach sink, “That sigh was a lot louder than I intended it to be.”

Cutie smiled and Bucky’s palms started to sweat.

“And that’s why you’re staring at me?”

Sitting up straight, Bucky could feel the mortification creeping over him. He’d not only been caught, he had been creepy. None of this was happening the way it should.

“I…” Bucky looked down at his coffee. “Sorry.”

The chair across from Bucky scraped across the floor and Bucky lost all chance of escape as the cutie sat down at his table.

“I’m Steve.”

“Hi,” Bucky mumbled.

Steve chuckled, the sound soft and low and beautiful.

“Normally this is where you tell me your name.”

“Oh!” Bucky wanted to die. “Bucky. I’m James. Bucky.”

“James… Bucky?” Steve looked at him curiously. “That’s unusual.”

“No, I’m James. Barnes. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.”

Holy shit, could he sound any stupider? Why was this cutie still sitting here? Bucky was pathetic.

“So do I call you James, or Bucky, or Barnes?” That smile again, the one Bucky had gushed about for an hour to his little sister. “'Fraid the whole thing is too much of a mouthful all the time.”

“Bucky. My friends call me Bucky.”

There, Bucky congratulated himself. It only took three times to sound like a normal, functioning human being. God, he was a disaster.

“Okay, Bucky. You wanna get dinner some time?”

“Sorry, what?” Bucky stuck his finger in his ear because he couldn’t have heard that right. “Like, a date?”

Steve glanced around the coffee shop, the stood and slipped onto the booth at Bucky’s side. No longer breathing, Bucky went still as Steve whispered against his ear, lips making Bucky shiver, “I’ve been watching you all week. Did you know you move your lips when you day dream?” Bucky shook his head. “I can read lips, Bucky.” Oh fuck. “And I want to take you back to my studio. You’re the most stunning man I’ve ever met.”

“Now?” Bucky squeaked.

“Right now.”

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

Steve sat back and smiled at Bucky, then leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Come on, handsome. Let’s find out how your day dreams faire in reality.”

Bucky stumbled as he stood, but Steve just smiled at took his head. Okay, so maybe it had been love at first sight instead.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @tigerliliesandcherryblossoms: "Do I look like a cat to you?!"

“Do I look like a cat to you?”

More than a little confused by the question, Steve stopped trying to climb into his costume and turned toward the bathroom. Bucky had been in there for over an hour getting ready for the costume party. If the way Steve tried to swallow his tongue at the sight of his boyfriend, the work had paid off. He was dressed in skin tight, black leather, reminiscent of Natashaxs uniform; black gloves, thigh-high stilettos, and little black ears clipped into his gorgeous, long hair.

“Say something,” Bucky demanded nervously.

“Gluh,” was all Steve managed because he’d finally taken in Bucky’s eyeliner and makeup, making his beautiful eyes even bigger.

A sly smile spread over Bucky’s black-painted lips.

“Oh yeah?”

Nodding vigorously, Steve then had to sit as Bucky took it as encouragement to turn around. The suit clung to every bit of him so well that Steve barely noticed the tail clipped just above his tailbone.

“I’m not gonna make it,” Steve declared. “Lets stay home.”

Now grinning, Bucky strode over on legs that were longer than ever and pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s lips.

“Nope,” he sang, and then headed for the door. “Hurry up; we’ll be late.”

Steve just stood there, watching Bucky go. Yep, he was a dead man. Hopefully no one would notice his skeleton costume had an extra bone.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @anonmadsci: Prompt: Hasta la vista, Jackass ❤️❤️

Comms transcript, SHIELD log 2.3.45891A:

CA: Hasta la vista, jackass.

F: You did not just say that.

CA: What? What did I do?

IM: I told you idiots not to let Cap on the internet.

CA: You can’t keep me off the internet.

BW: Watch me.

CA: If Tomy had said it, no one would have complained.

IM: Tony never would have said it.

CA: No, he just talks in third person and it’s so much more annoying.

F: Steve, that movie is over 20 years old.

SW: Even I know it’s dated.

H: Gotta update your material.

IM: That is definitely not the problem.

BW: Everyone knows how I feel about agreeing with Tony, but.

CA: Sam, on you six.

F: On it.

CA: So if I’d said Bazinga, no one would have complained?

SW: I would have complained.

H: I don’t like that show.

IM: How is that even possible. That show is comedic gold.

BW: The show is incredibly sexist.

IM: Nobody’s perfect.

CA: If I promise not to repeat catch phrases, can we drop this?

Several voices at once: Yes.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @mariknickerbocker: ‘’Quick hide me!’’

“Quick!” Bucky’s head snapped up to stare at Steve as he rushed into the common room. “Hide me!”

“What?”

Steve didn’t answer, sliding across the floor and behind the couch as the stairwell door slammed open and Tony came storming in. Everything made sense, then. Not only had half of Tony’s beard and mustache been shaved off, his hair had been died a brilliant, white shade of blonde. If Bucky hadn’t been the Winter Soldier for 50 years, he would have burst out laughing, which wouldn’t have ended well considering the look of rage on Tony’s face.

“Where is he?”

“Uh, who? And what happened to your face?”

Truth be told, Bucky knew exactly what had happened to Tony’s face, but that wouod give the game away. Though Bucky had little experience as a person any more, he could spot a practical joke when he saw one. What he really wanted to know was how the fuck Steve had pulled it off.

“Don’t play games with me, Barnes. I know he’s here.”

“Seriously,” Bucky gestured to his own face, “you trying to set a new trend? ‘Cause I’m not going to join you, but good luck.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Tony scoweled as fiercely as a short man with platinum blonde hair and half a goatee could.

“You won’t tell me, fine. JARVIS?”

Instead of the usual, posh British voice, music started playing from the ceiling.

“JARVIS…?” Tony repeated, looking nervously upwards.

There was no answer, just a female voice speaking over the uptempo notes. “Dearest, darlingest momsie and popsicle.”

“What?” Tony blurted.

“My dear father,” said another voice just before the ceiling broke into song about a rooming assignment at someplace called Shiz.

“Is this Wicked?!” Tony shouted. “What the… STEVE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO JARVIS?!”

The voices just kept singing, neither JARVIS speaking, nor Steve standing from behind the couch. Bucky could only stare at the ceiling as it continued. Tony was practically having a fit, staring up at the speakers, both hands tugging at his hair as one roommate complained about the other.

Even Bucky couldn’t stop from laughing as the other roommate complained their roommate was, “Blonde.”

“Steve!” Tony shrieked, heading for the elevator. “This isn’t over! And YOU’RE BLONDE!”

The duo singing over the speakers lauched into their chorus, loathing each other completely, and Bucky couldn’t catch his breath he was laughing so hard. The music followed Tony into the elevator, ending as he likely zipped off to whatever floor JARVIS’ servers were on to undo whatever tampering Steve had had to do to get JARVIS to respond to Tony like that.

Bucky was still laughing as Steve’s blonde mop popped up from behind the couch.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Steve called, grinning broadly.

“My pleasure, Captain,” the AI replied.

“What the fuck,” Bucky wheezed.

Steve’s grin turned his way and shrank to something secretive and private.

“Finally got him back for putting blue dye in my shampoo.”

Bucky snorted, then held out his fist. The pleased smile that earned him made Bucky’s toes warm as their fists bumped.

“Next time, I want in.”

“Any time, Buck. Anytime.”


	22. For the love of coffee

“Man, who ate the last of the Reeses cereal?”

Steve didn’t groan, but he let his head hit the table. He was so tired - so, so tired - and if Sam was already starting, it was going to be a long… long… day.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said through a mouthful of cereal. Sam’s cereal.

The empty box slammed down on the table.

“You knew it was mine, Barnes.”

Bucky chewed, slowly, loudly, and Steve slid further into his chair so only the table was holding him up.

“You don’t understand,” Bucky said and Steve groaned. He’d heard that in a bar a time or two, when he hadn’t been the one who picked the fight. “I don’t care. And deep down; I mean deep, deep down?” Bucky shoved another spoonful in his mouth and said thickly, “I still don’t care.”

The empty cardboard container crunched in Sam’s hand. His footsteps moved purposefully to the kitchen counter of their shared flat in Wakanda. Steve had no where left to slump, but he tried. Nothing good was about to happen.

Sure enough, liquid began pouring down the drain and Bucky squawked.

“HEY! I haven’t had any yet.”

“You don’t understand,” Sam dead panned, “I don’t care. And deep, deep down? I still don’t care.”

“Steve!” Bucky collared.

Steve didn’t take his head from the table.

“No.”

The stunned silence that followed Steve’s statement was wonderful for the full thirty seconds it lasted.

“Look what you did!” Bucky growled. “You broke Steve!”

“I broke Steve?” Sam’s voice was high and insulted. “YOU broke him.”

As their voices got louder and higher, Steve let a groan go. Yeah, it was going to be a long, long day. For the first time in a long time, Steve cursed the serum in his veins. Why couldn’t he just have a cup of coffee like a normal person?


	23. Chapter 23

"I know I’m getting close to finishing my time machine because I’ve caught several older versions of myself attempting to sabotage my lab."

“Tony,” Steve said slowly, “Don’t you think you should, maybe, STOP building a time machine.”

For a second, Tony actually considered the statement, then he shook his head.

“No. I mean, if I was really set on stopping me I’d remember failing and try something new.”

“Would you?” Steve’s head began to hurt. “Wouldn’t you have to go back in time before you could remember it didn’t work the first time?”

Tony shrugged.

“Maybe. We won’t know how time travel works until I finish the machine.”

“Tony,” Steve said slowly, since the genius was not getting the point, “stop building the machine.”

“But I can’t,” Tony sat back spreading his hands, “because I’ve already made it, or I couldn’t have come back.”

Yes, Steve definitely had a head ache.

“Tony…”

Flapping his hand, Tony stood and straightened his suit coat.

“Don’t worry, Steve. I’m probably just fucking with myself so I can experiment with time travel with out fucking with someone else. If I really wanted myself to stop working, I’d have sent you.”

Steve blinked, watching Tony walk away, and feeling touched in a way he hadn’t thought Tony Stark capable of.


	24. Chapter 24

“Why is your murder boyfriend stripping his weapon at the kitchen table?”

Bucky didn’t look up from where he was doing exactly what Tony had said. He didn’t answer, either, because Tony wasn’t talking to him. Though they weren’t fighting, things were decidedly cool between them and that meant Tony talked about him, or around him, not to him. That was fine by Bucky, since if Tony wanted a real answer - like that Bucky preferred the kitchen table’s size and proximity to Steve - he shouldn’t have asked Captain Sassy Pants.

“I don’t really care,” Steve answered with a shrug. “At least he’s not going off alone to play with his Johnson any more.”

Though he felt Steve’s gaze, Bucky didn’t so much as let his lips twitch in amusement. If he did, Steve would think he was funny. If Steve thought he was funny - which he did - he would keep telling these fucking jokes from the fourties. God damn future and it’s new audience of people who had never heard Steve tell this particular joke twenty dozen times.

“His Johnson?” Tony repeated, only a slight squeak in his voice.

“Yeah, his Johnson.” Steve’s delivery was perfect; slightly over eager and completely dry, like he didn’t know exactly what he was saying. “He used to go off and play with it every night. Sometimes during the day.”

“His Johnson,” Tony repeated, voice edging toward hysterical.

“He loved that thing.” Steve bobbed his head. “Glad they gave him a new model. Much easier to care for.”

Steve must have been waiting for Tony to take a sip of coffee to deliver that line, as a spray of it shot across the kitchen floor.

“You okay, Tony?” Steve asked, pounding Tony on the back.

“Fine,” Tony wheezed.

“You want to see it? We keep it in the bedroom.”

“No-” Tony began, but Steve was already moving.

“Its fine; it’ll just take a second to find.”

Bucky chanced a glance up from his work and found Tony staring, jaw hanging open, after Steve. It was a good look. Much better than self-importance, or sadness, or that weird almost guilty look he sometimes got when looking at Bucky. Bucky hated that one.

Tony’s mouth snapped shut as Steve hollared, “Found it!” and came marching back with Bucky’s Barret M107A1 sniper rifle.

“That’s…”

“Bucky’s new model, yeah,” Steve said blythly, as if he was unaware Tony thought he would be holding a detachable, metal dick. “That Johnson was a pain in the ass.”

Bucky snorted. Damn it. Now Steve was gonna pull this on everyone.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I sat down in the wrong class and I’m panicking but don’t want to get up and leave because the class has started and you think it’s hilarious and shut up you dumb fuck you don’t know me aahhh

Bucky was starting to question why he had been so excited to go to college. It was only the second day, and he was already starting to lose his mind. There was so much to _do_ , so much to _learn_ , and not in the educational sense. No, he had to learn the campus layout, and the names of buildings that didn’t actually have the name printed on them, and the horrors of text book shopping. So far, he hadn’t metaphorically (or literally) fallen on his face, but he was pretty sure it was going to happen. It _always_ happened; he was Bucky Barnes.

The lecture hall for his Tuesday physics class was huge, the kind of space he’d only seen in memes, and he hadn’t yet decided if he liked the size or not. On the one hand, it was really cool to have so many other students around. On the other, there were so many irritating, distracting students around.  


With his laptop out, One Note powered up, and a notepad out for good measure, Bucky waited as the class filled. He was early, for once, and it was a nice feeling. Finally the professor arrived and Bucky sat forward, ready to take notes.

“Welcome to Quantum Physics,” the professor’s voice boomed through the lecture hall and Bucky’s hands slipped off the keyboard.

“What?” he hissed.  


To his left, the blond mound of muscle he’d been studiously ignoring (because otherwise he was sure he’d miss everything that the teacher said) looked his way.

“What?” he whispered back.

“This isn’t physics?”

The sexy stud squinted at him.

“This is _quantum_ physics?”

“Oh fuck.”  


Bucky felt the blood drain from his face, shifting and glancing around. Of course he’d picked a front row seat. Of course the only way to the door was past the professor. There was no way out. He was stuck. He was _missing his class_.

The guy who had noticed his issue started chuckling and Bucky shot him a dark look. For whatever reason, this only made the guy start laughing harder. He was trying to hide it, but he was six feet of solid, glorious muscles, gorgeous and made of fucking sunshine and it was impossible to _not_ notice him. Yet the more Bucky glared, the harder he laughed, until he was wheezing, face red, digging into his backpack and _everyone was staring._  


Including the professor.  


“Is there something funny, Mr. Rogers?”

The blond Adonis nodded, choking out a wheezing, “Yes,” then lifting his prize into the air and shaking it vigorously. It was an inhaler of some sort.  


The Professors eyebrows shot down to his nose in a death-defying stunt.

“Are you having another asthma attack, Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes,” sex on legs wheezed, then puffed the inhaler into his mouth. Oddly, the professor looked completely defeated. Like this had _happened to him before._ What even was college? And who _was_ this guy?  


Rogers grabbed Bucky’s arm and pulled, wheezing and puffing on his inhaler, and dragging him bodily from the class. Bucky was at once horribly mortified, and more grateful than he’d ever been to another person in his life. Outside, Bucky looked around, intending to just flee and get to the right class on time, but he had been so sure _this_ was the right class.

Between puffs, because apparently the beautiful fuck really was having an asthma attack, Rogers asked, “Where were you supposed to be?”

“The Bently building, Lecture Hall 106?”

Rogers just nodded as if that made sense and pointed at the door they’d just exited. The embodiment of sunshine was still laughing, even as his lungs tried to choke him, and Bucky flushed when he realized why. The door said 106, but Rogers slowly turned the six upside down.  


“Lecture Hall 109,” Bucky whispered.  


Rogers nodded, tears running down cut cheekbones.

“I hate you.”  


This seemed to make Rogers laugh harder and he sagged against the wall. Yet, even as he did, he caught Bucky’s hand and pulled him close. Bucky was late, but he was briefly, horribly worried he’d killed a man by metaphorically falling on his face. That would be a new one, even for him. Yet, Rogers just pulled out a sharpie from his pocket and scribbled on Bucky’s hand.

Then he pointed to his left and gasped, “Run.”

Bucky ran. It was only as he slid into his seat in Lecture Hall 106 that he looked down to see what Rogers had written:

Call me  
619-555-2013  
Steve

The flush hit him from head to toe, making Bucky’s toes tingle. Even as he fumbled out his laptop and notebook and tried to focus on his lesson, he knew what he was doing the second the class ended.  


His phone burned in his pocket.  



	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From @kiriei on Tumblr: "you give me a different ridonkulous name everytime you come into the coffee shop" prompt!

He’s been Grumpy Cat, the Other Hidden Odin Child, Sass-modius, and Super Gay.   


Steve just wants to know his name.

He’s been A Welcome to Night Vale Intern, Captain Malcom Renolds, Cylon 8, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Sam.

Steve has never known a man with a smile that crinkles at the edges, eyes that sparkle, a laugh that lights up his entire being, and hair so long, soft and shiny.

He’s been Bart Simpson, A Unicorn, Wouldn’t You Like To Know, He Who Must Not Be Named, and Dream Daddy.   


No matter how many times he comes into Steve’s coffee shop, no matter how many times Steve asks his name, he never gives it. He says it’s Never Trump, or Expecting Uncle, or Sergeant Kiss-My-Ass, or Job Hunting, telling Steve so much about himself without telling him the one thing that Steve needs to know to ask him out. His name.

He knows Steve’s name, says it like a caress, like a kiss, like laughter, and Steve wants to punch him in the face with his face.

Now he’s here, like every morning at six am, getting in line for his, “coffee, black, none of that other shit,” and Steve loses his mind.   


“Please, Jesus, please tell me your name. I want to know your name.”

Those soft, grey eyes blink slowly, surprised by Steve’s outburst, and then those wicked, lying lips curve into a smirk.

“But I’ve told you my name.”

“No,” Steve’s finger whips up of its own accord and he’s pointing at a _customer_ and Sam, his only other employee is laughing into his sleeve, but Steve has no chill, “You name is _not_ Viva la Vida Loca. It is not Papi Chulo. It sure as fuck is not Zarzaback the Crusher. Now _tell me_ your _name_.”

He hasn’t stopped smiling, grinning like he knows a secret, and Steve wants to wipe that look of his face with his lips.

“I told you my name the first day I walked in here.”

Steve blinks slowly, because he honestly doesn’t remember the first time he saw him. He should, with how fixed he’s become in Steve’s consciousness. This moment, six am every day to hear his new fake name, is the brightest spot in Steve’s day.

“And you said, ‘No, that’s not a real name.’“

Steve blinks again. His knees wobble and he has to grip the counter for fear of falling.

“Please tell me your name.”

“Again?” he asks.   


The line behind him is growing and Steve has to move this alone, no matter how torturous.

Steve says, “Again.”

“My name…” He pauses, drawing it out, and Steve does not hit his head on the counter. Sam laughs, loud in the unusual quiet. “Is Bucky.”

“No, it isn’t,” Sam says and Steve thanks god for him because he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

“I believed in Princess Lilitha more,” Sam says.

Bucky - if that’s his real name - laughs.

“You guys remember all my names?”

“Steve will not stop talking about you,” Sam says because _he’s a giant dick_. “After you leave, we talk about your ‘name’ all day.”

“Oh, really?” Bucky - because it’s his name today - smiles. “Is that so, Steve?”

“Who is Steve?” Steve says, pouring Bucky his cup of black coffee, writing Bucky on the side. “My name is ‘I am going to kill Sam.’“

He hands the coffee cup over, Sam and Bucky laughing loudly, and Bucky’s fingers brush his. Steve is 90% sure it’s deliberate.

“Well, I’m going to kill Sam. Would you like to go to dinner with a guy sometime?”

Steve’s eye twitches.

“Only if your name is really Bucky.”

Bucky’s gaze turns soft.

“Okay, it’s James, but I hate that name. My sister has called me Bucky since she was two. So,” Bucky smiles, “call me Bucky.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word breathy and soft, “Yeah, Bucky. Let’s go to dinner. I get off at five.”

Without missing a beat, Bucky leans across the counter and kisses Steve on the cheek. Then he’s walking away, leaving the shop, tossing a little salute over his shoulder. The patrons are clapping, rainbows sprint across the sky, birds sing, and flowers bloom. Sam punches him in the arm and Steve focuses his wilting attention on the woman who was waiting behind Bucky.

“Hi,” Steve says, “Can I take your order?”  



	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @cobaltmoony on Tumblr: “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” and “It’s a real shame no one asked your opinion.”

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

Steve closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then began climbing the building again. They’d gathered a gaggle of fans, all staring and pointing their phones, as Steve climbed the side of the building across from Central Park. He’d made it to the third story. One more left.

“This is worse than the time you lost a fight to a chicken,*” Bucky shouted up at him.

Clenching his teeth, Steve growled, “It’s a real shame no one asked your opinion.”

“Steve!” Steve could picture him throwing up his hands in exasperation. “It’s a pigeon! A flying rat!”

“Its a baby,” Steve snapped back, trying to concentrate on his foot and hand holds while not squishing the baby bird tucked into his hoodie’s front pocket. How it had even survived this fall was a miracle; Steve wasn’t going to give up on it.

“It doesn’t need saving!”

Steve’s hand slipped.

Gritting his teeth, hauled himself up to the next ledge. The nest was a few feet away. 

“That’s what they said about you,” Steve snapped.

The anxious baby bird’s parents had been calling and fluttering near by, but weren’t attacking like bluejays might. Steve was grateful for that; Bucky’s incessant commentary had been distracting enough. 

Carefully, Steve extracted the baby bird he’d wrapped in a hankerchief to ensure it wouldn’t wiggle away and take another fall. It chirped as soon as it saw day light, oblivious to the way Steve was clinging to the side of a building, or the people below. It twisted its head this way and that, apparently no longer scared of Steve’s handling.

“Brave little shit,” Steve mumbled, before carefully setting the baby back in its nest. The parents cried and flew about and Steve had to smile. There was something moving about the display, the obvious distress of two tiny birds because their smaller offspring was in danger. 

Withdrawing his hankerchief and hand, Steve tucked the later away and began the slow trip back down the building. At five feet up, he dropped the rest of the way, and was met by a smattering of applause. Flustered, Steve forced himself to smile politely, wave… 

And then realized Bucky hadn’t said a word in the last several minutes. He was still there, arms crossed, glaring at Steve because he’d climbed the face of a building without the proper tools, but he wasn’t berating Steve for being stupid any more. 

Walking to Bucky’s side, Steve murmured, “You okay?” so the filming fans would hear.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky said gruffly, then swung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and hugged him hard even as he steered them back toward the subway. “I’m not a baby bird.”

“No,” Steve agreed, “you’re much more important.”

—-

*shout out to [@buckykingofmemes](https://tmblr.co/m9wWShAw1Sw8Dj7hEmP0UgQ) for epic story telling


	28. Chapter 28

When the Avengers move into the Tower after the Battle of Manhattan, a game starts. It starts innocently enough; Tony had the morning news on as gay marriage had just been legalized. Part of him was celebrating, but the rest of him wanted to see what good old American Justice would say when he saw the progress of the nation.

Unfortunately, Steve didnt seem to notice there was a TV on at all. He was slumped so far over his coco puffs Tony worried he was going to drown. The bags under his eyes suggested a long, sleepless night.

Which was not an excuse to entertain, damn it.

“Steve,” Tony said, then, “STEVE!” when their geriatric didn’t even grunt.

“Mmph,” Steve grunted. Tony worried he’d been brain swaped with Clint, only Robin Hood was no better off, slumped over a carafe of coffee. When did he become the morning person?

“Are you watching the news?”

“Mmph,” Steve repeated and it could go either way, really.

“What do you think about all this?”

Steve finally looked up, stared at Tony for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then he stood and Clint, for some reason, giggled.

“Um,” Tony managed, but Steve didn’t go far. He grabbed a black coat that had been lying inside out over the common room couch since Tony had entered earlier. Without a word, he carried it to Tony then shook it out, hard. Glitter exploded, sprinkling through the air and into Tony’s Kelloggs. Tony was left frozen, realizing Captain America had either just set him up, or joined the celebrations down town last night and come home with a coat full of rainbow love.

As Steve scooped up his bowl and wandered away, never having said a word, Tony re-examined his bags and thought, sleepless night indeed.

“Does nothing surprise him?” he demanded.

To his surprised, Natasha said, “We should find out,” thoughtfully, sipping from her protein shake and not looking up from her tablet.

And the game was on.

Steve was unsurprised by the craziest memes, vines, and news stories. Outraged often, but never shocked, surprised, or disgusted. The bastard Rick Rolled the lot of them while they were discussing BDSM clubs, shifting the game so Tony needed to win as Steve was apparently a massive troll.

Though he still wasn’t sure if the glitter was a trap or from the party. He needed to know, but photos on social media hadn’t shown anything definitive.

The game ended the same way it started: at breakfast.

“How do you like sex, Tony?” Natasha asked and Tony was glad she’d waited for him to swallow. He knew the game was on, though, so he answered quickly.

“Hard. Hard and rough.”

“But not, too rough,” Natasha said, smiling coyly.

It was perfect, only Steve didn’t bat an eye. He didn’t even look up from his Stark phone to say, “Just rough enough.” The jackass hadn’t waited for Tony to swallow, so he choked as Clint’s coffee sprayed across the table.

“What the fuck,” Tony coughed. “No fair. America doesn’t have sex.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, slow and steady.

“You won’t ever win when you assume I’m my propaganda.”

Tony flushed, and Steve stood, then mimed dropping a mic without breaking eye contact. As he walked away, Tony’s head hit the counter top and Bruce patted his shoulder consoleingly.

“Give up,” Bruce said.

Tony hit his head on the counter again.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @tigerliliesandcherryblossoms said: 
> 
> *Pink Panther Themesong* hopefully will inspire ficlet :)
> 
> \----
> 
> Do you know… do you KNOW how many times I heard and/or played this fucjing song? It’s one of those catchy bullshit songs that any high schooler can puzzle the notes if they listen long enough.
> 
> God damn it.
> 
> Okay. Here’s your fic and it has nothing to do with this song.

Steve woke in a cold sweat, visions from his nightmare still dancing across his vision. Bucky trapped in a cryo tube. Bucky falling to his death. His mom coughing blood onto a white hankerchief. His mom crying over his father’s photo. Peggy not remembering him. It had been everything and nothing, snapshots of misery, and Steve was terrified, Freud stricken, and confused.

Then he heard the first, soft tinkle of a piano key.

Just a single, short note, but Steve was awake and alert, yet holding perfectly still as if his movement might break the spell that drove Bucky to play at - he glanced at the clock - 2:49 AM. Steve had bought the piano when Bucky moved in with notions of music therapy and memories of strong fingers caressing ivory keys…

This was the first Bucky had used their expensive conversation piece.

A second note joined the first, then a third, before silence fell again. Like Bucky wasn’t sure if he would start to play at all. Like maybe he’d touched the piano absently, without meaning to sit and play. People did that, sat and fiddled without knowing what they were doing. They hadn’t even discussed if Bucky remembered how to play…

Then the soft, swelling notes of Prelude Op. 28, No. 15, by Frédéric Chopin, bloomed and trickled into the sound of raindrops. Steve closed his eyes, suddenly close to tears again. He knew this song by heart, had heard Bucky practice it over and over and over, his best piece, the piece his mother had him trot out to impress her friends, or his father’s guests. Bucky had hated this song. He’d played it so much, so often, for such stupid reasons, he wanted to play anything else.

Steve, well, Steve loved it. Bucky’s fingers created a soft downpour that abruptly grew into a downpour. Thunder and lightning crashed, lashing the air, swelling and rising, then trailing into silence as the storm twisted and faded, mercurial and unknowable.

That was why Steve loved it. It was music, a piano… and it was a rainstorm.

It was Bucky, his fingers knowing this song whether his mind did or not. It was BUCKY and he was here, somehow, in the future.

The soft thump heralded the cover returning to the keys. Steve took a shuddery breath, closed his eyes, and dreamt of a young man, dressed to the nines, playing a rainstorm for a little boy with blonde hair and a crooked spine.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @snarkysnartes asked:
> 
> 121 + Stucky please
> 
> 121\. “Just talk to me.”

“I just… I wish you’d just talk to me.” Steve’s voice cracked down the middle and he closed his eyes tight, holding back his tears. “Keep watching you fall, Buck. Keep watching and there’s nothing I can do; nothing I can ever do…”

Steve’s fingers brushed the headstone with Bucky’s name carved in white stone. What was left of the world hadn’t been able to put to rest the billions of dead after Thanos had won, but Bucky’s grave from World War II hadn’t ever been removed. He had this. No place to talk to Sam, or Wanda, but he could still talk to Bucky.

Sniffling, he dashed his hand across his eyes and gathered the treacherous moisture gathering on his lashes.

“We’re putting it together, best we can,” Steve told the silent ground. “The world, I mean. Can you believe Ross made it? Of all _fucking_ people, _Ross_.” Steve let out a half-hysterical chuckle. “We never found out what happened to Tony… that spider kid… Think I woulda liked him.”

Steve closed his eyes, unaware of the blue eyes on his back. 

“God, you make him maudlin,” Sam grumbled.

“Shut up,” Bucky snapped. There were exactly no benefits to no longer being temporal. Like how he couldn’t punch Sam, for instance. 

Or give Steve a hug.

“He doesn’t come to _my_ grave to cry!” Sam pointed out.

“You don’t have a grave,” Bucky threw back, scowling at Steve’s best friend. Then he blinked. “Wait a fuckin’ second,” he growled. “You actually think he’s _not_ maudlin over _you_?”

Sam looked away, but Bucky couldn’t yell at him because Steve was talking again.

“Wakanda has stepped up to the plate like no one else. I don’t know where we’d be without Queen Shuri, General Okoye, or Nakia. They’re so strong, Buck, just like you said. Wish I’d known them before, like you did. Wish… Wish a lot of things…”

Steve sighed, closing his eyes again to ward off the tears, and Bucky rounded on Sam.

“I thought you were stupid, Wilson, but this takes the goddamn cake. You held him up, bird brain. You kept him straight and you’re gone. The first fuckin’ friend he made out of the ice, and you think he doesn’t miss you more than anyone?”

Sam glanced at Steve uncertainly.

“Miss you, Buck,” Steve whispered, his voice broken again. “Thought I was gettin’ you back and then…” He laughed, wetly. “God, if Sam saw me now he’d kick my ass. Bigger issues that missing my…” Steve swallowed hard, lowering his head, “than my broken heart.” He sniffled and straightened and Bucky couldn’t keep track of his emotions, not with the way his chest hurt. “You tell Sam I miss him, too. Tell him…”

“Tell him what?” Sam shouted as Steve trailed off and just shook his head. When he didn’t look to be going on, Sam muttered, “Asshole,” but the word was as rough as if he’d started crying, too.

“Told you you’re an idiot,” Bucky muttered.

“Gotta get back to it.” Steve sighed, running his fingertips along the top of the white grave. “Love you, Buck. See you soon.”

“Better fuckin’ not,” Bucky grumbled. 

Sam sighed, but nodded his agreement.

“Now what?”

Bucky eyed Sam in irritation. When had he become the leader of the dimensional Avengers? Nevertheless, he said, “Let’s go see what that Parker kid is up to. Seemed to be on to something last time.”

Sam nodded, but they didn’t move, watching Steve’s retreating back.

“We’re comin’ back, Stevie,” Bucky mumbled. “Just hang on.”


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kriszeth asked:
> 
> I feel like it's a cliche but 7 and 13 sound so stucky
> 
> \----
> 
> 7\. “Have I made a grave mistake? Yes? Am I going to ignore it? Also, yes.”
> 
> 13\. “You think I’m the idiot? Who almost got us killed?”

“I can’t believe,” Bucky panted, winded from climbing a _mountain_ , “that you just… jumped though the portal. Just,” Bucky gestured with his fingers, indicating Steve’s leap. “No idea where it went, or what was on the other side, just,” Bucky gestured again.

Ahead of him and unable to see Bucky’s gestures, Steve said, “Have I made a grave mistake? Yes? Am I going to ignore it?” A brief pause as Steve took a deep breath of the thin air. “Also, yes.”

“You’re a menace,” Bucky growled. “A hazard to my health. An idiot-“

Steve actually stopped and turned around, hands on his hips in the iconic posture of Captain America. Bucky better knew it as ‘I’m being stubborn and you can’t stop me’ position. Though, sometimes it was ‘Fight me’ posture. Bucky squinted and decided not this time; just stubborn, then.

“You think I’m the idiot?” Steve’s breath puffed into the air. “Who almost got us killed?”

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it, and glared at Steve hard.

“That is not the point.”

“Oh, of course not. The point can’t be how you went in without backup to face a mutant with unknown powers. No, how could _that_ be the point?”

Bucky glowered.

“Sarcasm does not suit you.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve turned back around and started marching again.

“Stop stressing,” Steve commanded. “We’re alive, we’re basically uninjured, and we’re together… here… wherever here is…”

“Your meandering point is touching,” Bucky snapped, because it was and because Steve’s faithful devotion made his chest tight. He didn’t deserve someone like Steve Rogers in his life, never had, and yet here they were, _together_ , somewhere.

“So we’ll be fine,” Steve went on like Bucky hadn’t spoken. “We’ll get through it. Now quit your bitching, Sergeant, and walk.”

Bucky laughed, remembering another mountain, another century, where they were lost and alone.

“Hey,” Bucky said, taking a bigger step forward so he was at Steve’s side when he paused, half turning back. Bucky stole a kiss, a quick press of lips, and then bumped Steve’s hip with his own. “Go on. What? You tired?”

Steve’s fond expression melted into exasperation, but he turned and started walking. Bucky followed.


	32. Part 1 of the Marshmallow AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> izzithelizard asked:
> 
> For the writing prompt: number 3 with shrunkyclunks?
> 
> \----
> 
> “You haven’t heard of me? How could you not? Have you been living under a rock? How come they don’t know who I am?”

“It’s trending on YouTube,” Becca, Bucky’s wonderfully nosy sister/manager, declared. Hoping she’d take the hint, Bucky groaned from beneath the throw pillow he was using to try to smother himself. She didn’t. “You’ve also got #YouHaven’tHeardOfMe on Twitter. Oh! Here’s a good one.”

Bucky tossed the pillow at her head, but she just ducked and it sailed over the couch to startle his giant cat, Marshmallow. The grey tabby scrambled to sniff the pillow, then turned baleful green eyes on Bucky.

“’Welcome to Under A Rock, the only place to escape pretty boy Bucky Barnes, hometown of Captain America.’” Bucky groaned, so Becca said, “No? Well, how’s this one? ‘Bucky Barnes, the only celebrity who expects their fame to transcend time.’“

“Why does this have to happen to me?” Bucky asked the ceiling. Only, he knew why this had happened to him. Steve fucking Rogers had happened to him.

“I told you not to use lines from your songs to pick people up,” Becca said without an ounce of sympathy.

“There is only _one person_ on the _planet_ who wouldn’t understand that line!” Bucky protested.

“And you hit on him.” Becca laughed. “‘Petition to move to 1945 to escape Bucky Barnes’ ego.’“

Bucky ignored her.

“How was I to know who he was? Or that someone was filming us?”

“By using your eyes. You’re up to four million hits.”

“Arg!” Bucky shouted, covering his arms with his face since he’d thrown his pillow at his cat. 

Becca just chuckled. Moments later, the audio of the most mortifying moment of Bucky’s life piped from her phones tiny speakers. It was indistinct, but Bucky couldn’t forget a moment so indelibly scarred into his psyche. God had taken mercy on him, so the line itself hadn’t been recorded, just Bucky making a complete ass of himself.

“Steve,” Captain fucking America said. It was all he had said after hearing Bucky’s name. The line itself didn’t work all the time; not everyone had heard his music. His name, though? That always got a hit. 

Well, except that time, where Steve’s lack of recognition had translated into a long, awkward pause.

“You… don’t know who I am, do you?” Bucky had said, because he was _a twat_. He could picture Steve’s face, the way one eyebrow had lifted curiously even as he didn’t stop smiling politely.

“Should I?”

“Ugh,” Bucky groaned and Becca shushed him in time for his recorded voice to say, “Should you? You haven’t heard of me? How could you not? Have you been living under a rock? How come they don’t know who I am?” 

Becca started laughing and Bucky kicked the couch she lay on as his stomach twisted with humiliation. God, what had he been thinking? Besides that he was horny and tipsy and apparently needed better PR in Steve’s Nowhereville town. He was _such_ an asshole. 

Their noise drowned out Steve’s response, but it played in Bucky’s head anyways. That smirk, that amused twinkle in blue eyes, and, “You’re a little young to have been famous in the forties.” 

And it had all clicked. Steve _Rogers_. Captain _fucking_ America. The video cut out before he stumbled to apologize, bought Steve another drink, and fled in embarrassment. He’d thought that would be the worst of it; humiliating himself in front of a national fucking icon. It wasn’t.

“Oh, new video!” Becca crowed.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t sit up to look, just groaned again. Marshmallow must have forgiven him, because the big tom tentatively walked onto his chest and began kneading his abs. Bucky buried his hands in Marshmallow’s thick, soft fur and tried to will himself out of existence. 

All in all, he did a damn good job, since he didn’t recognize the voice until it was mid rant.

“…I will personally show them the rock I’ve been living under and how a man would be _murdered_ for doing what he did. If there’s any disgrace here, it’s forgetting that history is barely under our belt and illegal until just twenty years ago, for allowing that kind of hate to be perpetuated-”

“Steve,” a female voice pleaded.

Bucky sucked in a breath and hugged Marshmallow tight to his chest so he could sit up, yank Becca’s arm around, and see the video. The title screamed, Captain America Defends Bucky Barnes - Disappointed in America and featured a close up of Steve Rogers out of uniform, walking some New York street. He was gorgeously flushed, expression full of righteous anger.

“No! It’s crap, all of it! This man hit on me - so what? Good for him for being confident and proud of who he is and these jackasses are saying ‘faggots’ like him don’t belong in this country can come find me ‘cause the last time I heard that? Was from Hitler. Yellow stars, pink triangles; it was the same hate. Men fought and _died_ to put a stop to that kind of evil and I won’t be a part of it!”

The video ended and Becca said, “Wow.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispered. “Wait, someone called me a faggot?”

“Well,” Becca said guiltily, “I may have been reading you… a curated version of the media storm…”

Bucky stared at his sister, the entire teasing suddenly taking on the flavor of a _distraction_. 

“Becca,” he began, but couldn’t demand to know how bad it was because his phone rang. Shooting his sister a look that promised he wasn’t done with this conversation, he answered the unknown number and asked, “Hello?”

“Yes, um, is Bucky Barnes available to come to the phone?” Even with the formal words, Bucky recognized that voice.

“This- I mean, I’m…” Bucky took a steadying breath. “That’s me.”

“This is Steve Rogers,” Steve said pointlessly. “We met last night.”

“Like I’d forget,” Bucky said before he could think twice about it. “Sorry-”

“No,” Steve interrupted, “it’s fine. I’ve seen the news coverage. It’s… brutal.”

Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Anyways,” Steve said a little too quickly, “I was calling because you ran off last night before we really got a chance to talk and I’m pretty sure you were trying to ask me out.”

“Um,” Bucky said, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Flirting is different in this millennium, so I’m sorry I didn’t catch on sooner. I listened to your music,” Bucky blinked, “you’re good and I was wondering if we could get dinner.”

“Are you- What?” 

Steve’s laugh was soft and deep and rich. It vibrated its way out of Bucky’s speakers and straight up his spine, making him shiver and squeeze his eyes shut tight.

“I’m asking you on a date, Bucky.”

“This… I mean, you’re Captain America.”

“And you’re Bucky Barnes, signer, song writer, and choreographer.” That voice got deeper, richer, and Bucky’s cock twitched. “I gotta say, Buck, you can sure move.”

“Yes,” Bucky breathed, “Please, yes.”

“Mm,” Steve hummed, and there was something full of _promise_ in the sound. “Tonight? Seven, Stark Tower.”

Bucky shook himself hard, trying to get his brain to leave his dick and actually help him out.

“Um, sure. I’m picking you up?”

“No.” That warm chuckle again. “I’m making you dinner.”

“Oh.” Bucky shivered again. “I’ll be there with bells on.”

“See you soon, Buck.”

A click and Bucky stared down at his phone, then slowly looked up at his sister. “I have a date,” he said flatly, “with Steve Rogers.”

Becca squealed so loud Marshmallow clawed Bucky’s chest getting away. That was okay, though. Bucky had the distinct feeling Steve was going to help him forget all his troubles.


	33. Part 2 of the Marshmallow AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> izzithelizard asked:
> 
> Ok, only if you want to, but now I wanna see prompt 8 (the Lion King one) with Steve and Marshmallow (and Bucky)
> 
> \----
> 
> 8\. “Why are you recreating the lion king with my cat?”

Dating Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, was _never_ boring. Bucky had thought it would be, honestly. The guy was so wholesome on the surface, pure, virtuous… and it was true to an extent. It ignored what it was like to be with a man who always spoke his mind, was stubborn as the day was long, and whose most honed skill was punching.

Bucky loved every. Single. Moment. The ups, like watching the sunrise from Steve’s bed overlooking the Manhattan sunrise, and the downs, like when Steve had punched out a paparazzo for following them around Brooklyn. Getting to know Steve had been surprise after surprise as Bucky unlearned who he thought Steve would be and got to know the man behind the myth. He’d worried over every mission, cared for each fast-healing scrape, and written a top-charting album inspired by the man he loved.

None of it prepared him to walk back into his Brooklyn town home to see his boyfriend standing on the couch as the opening the the Lion King boomed from his stereo, holding his cat up like his name was Rafiki. He wasn’t sure what was more surprising, really, that Steve knew all the words to a song that wasn’t English, or that Marshmallow was allowing himself to be serenaded and presented to a nonexistent kneeling crowd of animals. Bucky loved his cat, he really did, but Marshmallow wasn’t what one called tolerant.

“Steve?” Bucky said, letting the door swing shut on it’s own in his bewilderment. 

Though his voice didn’t carry much over the T.V., Steve’s head swung Bucky’s way, and he beamed like sunshine.

“Bucky!” Steve cried. He pulled Marshmallow into his chest, curled the tom on his back (What?!), and hopped over the back of the couch to sweep Bucky into a one armed hug, cat trapped between them. “You’re home!”

“I know,” Bucky said patiently and allowed himself to melt into Steve’s embrace. “Why are you recreating the lion king with my cat?” 

Steve scoffed.

“Why would I not?” Bucky didn’t respond, since silence usually got Steve talking faster than any other tactic. “Okay,” Steve cracked, “I may have seen the Lion King last night with Nat and it might be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

Bucky smiled against Steve’s chest, but pulled back as Marshmallow squirmed into a loaf position, but didn’t leave Steve’s arms.

“That’s it,” he declared, “I’m getting you season tickets to a few of the theaters.”

“Bucky, that is so much money,” Steve started to protest.

“It’s what you get,” Bucky interrupted loudly, “for making my cat love you more than me.” Steve’s mouth closed with a snap and Bucky smiled. “Marshmallow has good taste.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s smile was slow and promised a long, sweaty roll in Bucky’s sheets. “Well, your cat may love me, but I love you.”

The air caught in Bucky’s throat and he stared at Steve, wide eyed. They’d never said it, not aloud, but Steve had… He’d said. 

A heavy, furry paw pressed against Bucky’s lips. Startled out of his daze, Bucky grabbed the demanding paw (Marshmallow’s sign he wanted to be petted), and said, “I…” at the same time Steve said, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Bucky sighed, took Marshmallow from his boyfriend and set the cat on the back of the couch. Then he grabbed Steve’s head and pulled him into a hard, if chaste, kiss.

“I love you, too,” he said, before Steve could speak again. “So let me get you Broadway tickets. It’s about the only thing you like in this century.”

“Besides you,” Steve said and Bucky melted back into his arms.

“Yeah,” he said, soft and loving. God, he was a sap. “Besides me.”


	34. Coffe shop/soulmate au

Bucky hated the words on his wrist. “Steve Rogers; can I get a venti, mocha, cappuccino, with an extra shot of expresso?” They were better than his sister’s, “Son of a bitch!” since they at least had the standard greetting from those who hadn’t yet met their soulmate and were addressing a stranger. Name first, making the interaction mostly unique so no one was born with something as hopeless as, “Hey,” or “‘Sup?” or “Son of a bitch!” He at least knwe where to look for this Steve Roger’s who made up the other half of his soul.

Somewhere… in a coffee shop.

Which was why Bucky had been working in various coffee shops for the last six years. Six long, weary years. He was only twenty two, but he no longer met each prospective “Steve Rogers” with a smile and hope that this time he’d find his soulmate. If Brenda scheduled him for one more opening to close shift in a row he was going to just quit and adopt twenty cats. Soulmates were not worth his actual soul.

Forcing himself to smile through his exhaustion - ugh, Labor Day was so BUSY - Bucky looked at the next customer in line. Before he could give his standard schpiel, “Welcome to Starbucks, I’m Bucky Barnes; can I take your order?” the handsome and exhausted looking blond said the words Bucky had been waiting to here since they’d appeared on his wrist at fifteen.

“Steve Rogers; can I get a venti, mocha, cappuccino, with an extra shot of expresso?”

Exultation coursed through Bucky’s chest. It was HIM. Bucky had found his other half.

The joy was so overwhelming, Bucky didn’t realize what he was doing until he’d already thrust both fists in the air, turned to his incompetent manager, and shouted, “Fuck you, Brenda, I quit!”

Then Bucky realized THAT was the sentence Steve had been wearing since he was fifteen. He hesitated a moment, glanced at Steve, who looked absolutely dumb struck, and thought, 'Fuck it. Why ruin a good exit?'

Hopping over the counter, Bucky caught Steve’s hand and pulled him out of the Starbucks. The customers they passed looked baffled, but Bucky’s former coworkers were cheering and clapping; it wasn’t really a secret why Bucky had taken the job.

Outside, Bucky faced his soulmate and smiled sheepishly.

“Hi. I'm Bucky.”

“Hi,” Steve said forcefully, his expression awed. “I knew you were gonna be somethin’.”

Bucky laughed, squeezing Steve’s hand hard since the guy hasn’t pulled away yet.

“Pal, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and visit me on Tumblr
> 
> [cleo4u2](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com)


End file.
